


You Could Miss It

by aintitnifty



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: BROT3, Because I think that's what this is..., Gen, Is bro-fluff a thing?, Trinity (DCU)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 10:02:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aintitnifty/pseuds/aintitnifty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diana and Clark try to make an injured Bruce take a day off. It takes some convincing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Could Miss It

**Author's Note:**

> Because there can never be too much Trinity fic, and I love the idea of these three just hanging out like normal people.
> 
> Like many of my fics, originally posted [on my LJ](http://niftywithan.livejournal.com/23843.html#cutid1).
> 
> Enjoy!

They were talking about him like he was not there. It was irritating, to say the least.

“He’ll need at least two days of bed rest, which he won’t take,” Alfred was saying, back turned pointedly away from where Bruce was lying bandaged on the Batcave’s operating table, “and he should stay off the leg for even longer, which he won’t do. Do you think you can handle him?”

“I’m sitting right here,” Bruce said, but he was ignored.

Diana smiled. “I’m sure I will manage. Thank you, Alfred.”

“Wonderful. I leave him in your capable hands.” Alfred glanced at Bruce, eyebrow raised like it used to be when he was warning eight year-old Bruce to behave. “Good night, sir.”

Bruce just glared.

“You should get some rest,” Diana said as Alfred disappeared into the Manor, and Bruce swung his legs over the edge of the table, wincing as the broken one bent awkwardly.

“No time,” he said, preparing to stand. “I have work to do.”

A strong hand rested on his chest and pushed him none too gently back onto the table.

“I’m sure it can wait for at least a couple of hours,” Diana said, narrowing her eyes.

Bruce weighed the pros and cons of taking on Wonder Woman while injured, but the hand on his chest was like steel and he was at a severe disadvantage so he reluctantly allowed Diana to press him back into the pillows.

“There,” she said, looking a little too proud of herself. “Now sleep.”

“No. Get me my laptop.”

Diana made a face and crossed her arms. “You are the most stubborn man I have ever met.”

“Duly noted. My laptop?”

“Bruce, you haven’t slept in days,” said Diana. “ _And_ you are wounded. You need rest.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re exhausted.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Please don’t make me force you.”

Bruce fixed her with a calculating look. “’ _Force me_ ’? How would you–?”

Diana leaned over him, dark hair falling in soft waves around her face, and kissed him soundly on the lips. Bruce’s eyes widened and he almost pulled away, but a strong hand curled into his hair, holding him in place, and then he felt the sharp slide of a needle in his arm.

“That’s cheating,” he grumbled when Diana pulled away, a wicked grin on her face and an empty syringe in her hand.

“Think of it as retribution for you kissing me on Themyscira.”

“I thought you punching me in the face was retribution.”

“No, that was just fun.” Diana set the syringe down on the bedside table and held a small swath of cotton to the injection site to catch the tiny droplet of blood.

“It probably won’t work, you know,” Bruce said. “I’ve built up a tolerance to most sedatives.” But even as he said it he could tell that his words were beginning to slur and his eyes really wanted to close.

“I am confident it will work,” Diana said. “Alfred gave me the dosage.”

“Of course he did.” His vision was getting bleary and there was a dull rushing in his ears and he could not for the life of him lift his head. Damn. This was why he hated sedatives.

Warm lips pressed against his forehead and it was only then that he realized he had closed his eyes.

“Sleep, Bruce,” Diana whispered, brushing gentle fingers along his jaw. “Clark is patrolling Gotham, and I will be here with you. Your city is safe. Sleep now.”

He did.

\- - -

They were talking about him again. That would never stop being annoying.

Also, it smelled like popcorn.

“– think he ever does this?”

That was Diana, her quiet voice coming from somewhere to Bruce’s right. He heard crunching, the shift of a chair on stone, and then Clark said, “Knowing Bruce, probably not. The Cave is for work only. Shame, though. These are some fantastic screens.”

Diana hummed her agreement. “Now what is the premise of this film?”

“It’s about a high school kid who comes up with this whole elaborate scheme to play hooky.”

Of course it was, Bruce thought, keeping his eyes stubbornly shut. Matthew Broderick was just starting his opening monologue – something about how life moves fast, how you have to stop and look around once in a while – and Bruce knew that Clark was doing that creepy thing where he listened to Bruce’s heart rate and breathing and knew for a fact that he was already awake. Why else would he have chosen this particular movie?

“It teaches a really good lesson, you know,” Clark continued, and now Bruce was positive the Kryptonian knew he was awake. “Everybody needs some time off sometimes.”

“You must be very pleased with yourself, Kent,” Bruce growled.

“You know, I really am,” Clark said, and Bruce could just hear his grin. “I thought this was quite clever.”

“How are you feeling?” Diana asked, and Bruce finally opened his eyes to find himself staring at the Batcave’s computer console, all screens of which were projecting _Ferris Bueller’s Day Off_ in stunning Hi-Definition.

“Groggy, thanks to you,” he grumbled. Diana smiled at him, showing not the slightest hint of remorse.

“You needed rest,” she said, then lifted the large bowl on her lap. “Popcorn?”

“No,” Bruce said. “Why did you mess with my computer?”

“We didn’t mess with it,” Clark said. “We’re just using it to watch movies.”

“Movies? As in more than one?”

“Yes,” Diana said, munching on a kernel of popcorn. “This is our third. You’ve been asleep for about seven hours.”

Bruce lurched upright, ignoring the sudden dip and swirl of the cave around him and the twinge of broken ribs.

“You let me sleep for _seven hours_?” he hissed, eyes flashing, and if his companions had been anyone other than Superman and Wonder Woman they would have been cowering in a corner and pleading for forgiveness.

As it was, both Clark and Diana looked less than impressed.

“You needed the sleep,” Clark said, reaching across Bruce’s lap to grab a handful of popcorn. “And Gotham’s been quiet. Dick patrolled with me last night and I’ve been listening this whole time. Your city is safe, Bruce. Relax.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Or what, you’ll drug me again?”

“Well, not now,” Diana said. “You’ve already slept more than you usually do.”

“And you know we only drug you because we care,” Clark said, and there was that damned twinkle in his eye, the one he got whenever he was teasing. Bruce really wished his Kryptonite were within easy reach. Stupid broken leg.

Clark patted his arm and smiled. “Take a day off, Ferris. We all are.”

It was only then that Bruce noticed both Clark and Diana were dressed in casual clothes, Diana wearing a soft white sweater and dark slacks, Clark in a ridiculous flannel shirt and jeans. Reluctantly, Bruce glanced down at himself, saw the bandages wrapped tight around his torso, around his arm, his knuckles, his stiff and splinted leg.

Well. Maybe he could use a day off. Physically, at least.

“Fine,” he muttered. “I will… ‘relax,’ but on one condition.”

Clark looked skeptical. “And that is…?”

“I need my laptop.”

Clark and Diana exchanged exasperated looks.

“I told you he was hopeless,” Diana said.

Clark heaved a sigh. “Bruce…”

“Clark, if you don’t get me my laptop in fifteen seconds, you can find a new best friend,” Bruce said, allowing his lips to twitch into the barest hint of a smile.

Clark’s returning grin was blinding.

“You’ve been saying that since the fifth grade,” he said, playing along, and then the movie suddenly paused, there was a blur of motion and Clark was handing Bruce his laptop, retrieved from Bruce’s office in the Manor.

Bruce grunted his thanks and opened the computer as Clark took his seat once more, still grinning, crossing his long legs in front of him and pressing play. The movie resumed to the rapid clicking of computer keys, and Diana scooted her chair closer to Bruce’s bedside. She leaned her head against his shoulder and his typing paused, his eyes shifted toward her, narrowed in suspicion.

“You don’t have any more needles hidden away, do you?” he asked.

“Of course not,” Diana said. She smiled impishly up at him, beautiful even out of uniform, and offered him the bowl once again. “Popcorn?”

**Author's Note:**

> Even though we all know Clark is actually Ferris and Bruce is totally Cameron.
> 
> Bruce: He'll keep calling me... he'll keep calling me until I come over... he'll make me feel guilty... this is... this is ridiculous. Okay, I'll go. I'll go I'll go I'll go I'll go, WHAT - I'LL GO. ... Shit.
> 
> And then he throws a fit and revs the Batmobile and screams and honks the horn and eventually yes, he does go out with Clark.
> 
> OKAY I'M DONE NOW BYE.


End file.
